


In Bloom

by Contesa_lui_Alucard



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contesa_lui_Alucard/pseuds/Contesa_lui_Alucard
Summary: This is just a little drabble I wrote for @abigeyedowl.art on instagram, because her Florist Rey and Tattoo Artist Ben AU does something to my soul.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	In Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The characters belong to Disney, the AU idea belongs to @abigeyedowl.art, I am nothing but a vessel.

“Do you mind if I look at them,” Rey’s eyes slowly rake over Ben’s arms, “your tattoos, I mean,” before coming back up to meet his intense gaze. He nods once, swallows, “Yeah,” presents his arms out to her, palms up, “yeah you can look.”

Rey smiles at him, then eagerly fixes her attention on to his offering. She gets up on her knees and shuffles a little bit closer to him, closing the distance between them on the red flannel blanket they’ve been relaxing together on, placing herself as close as she can get, until his crossed legs prevent her from getting any closer, his outstretched hands on either side of her. She shifts slightly and focuses on his right arm first, her hands come up slowly, tentatively, and delicate fingertips softly grasp the proffered arm, tracing the drawn lines, gently guiding his arm to change its angle to better see how the art wraps around the limb. She isn’t just looking, she’s studying, memorizing, understanding. She runs the tip of her index finger along the imperial logo on his upper forearm, her nail softly scratching the tender flesh, the sensation is too much, goosebumps prickle his arms. She notices, her gaze flicks back up to his, she smirks, eyebrow cocked, “Sensitive?”

Ben swallows hard, clenches his jaw tight, she has no idea how it feels to be touched by her so reverently, “It just,” he tries to unknit his brows, tries to breathe, “feels nice.”

The smirk melts into something soft, Rey nods, directs her attention back to his arm. Her fingertips travel up his bicep, tracing the petals of a daisy, the feather of a quill, “That poem you wrote me,” she doesn’t shift her gaze up to him when she speaks, her eyes continue to follow her fingers as they dance across his flesh, “I put it in a frame. It’s next to my bed.”

Ben had written it for her not long after he’d met her, that fateful day in Naboo Blooms would forever be a milestone in his memories. She was more breathtaking than the flowers that surrounded her, a beauty more delicate than the petals of the softest bloom, and yet with a strength to rival that of an oak. As resourceful and resilient as a cactus. He’d never met someone like her, he was immediately enchanted, and he’d decided to tell her in a poem. Ben was never very good with getting words out of his mouth, but he excelled at getting his feelings on paper, whether it be through art or through poetry. So he’d written it all down in his best calligraphy, and presented it to her on their third date. That was two weeks ago.

The thought of her keeping it close makes his heart ache. That paper might as well have been written in his blood. Handing it to her that night, watching her read it, watching as the tears slipped from her eyes, had been the most open and naked he’d ever felt. The idea of that confessional sitting by her bedside as she slept, it did something to him. Ben’s adam’s apple bobs, eyes boring into the top of her head, “You framed it?”  
Rey nods, “I framed it. Those were the most beautiful words anyone has ever said about me.” Her fingers still as her gaze finally flicks back up to his, her eyes are full of something thick, heavy, “I’ve never felt so adored.”

His honey eyes are swimming with emotion, his rough voice breaks when he speaks, “You are everything.”

She knows what he means, what words he’s hidden in what he has said, and she smiles, big and warm, eyes welling with the overflow of what cannot be contained inside of her for him, lifting her hands to cradle the face that she can’t be without. The arms he’d had outstretched for her inspection grasp her, thick fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, and he pulls her in, bridging that gap. In one swift motion she is brought into his lap and he kisses her deeply, lips and tongue speaking without voice, telling her all of the things he wants to say. Her thumbs stroke his cheek bones, his jaw line, before her fingers are moving to tangle in his soft ebony locks. She wants to pull him inside of her, fill up all of the emptiness she’s felt for so long, keep him close and safe and warm and cared for, neither of them would ever be alone again.


End file.
